Just a Cog in the Machine
by catfoxy
Summary: Private jets are a luxury that the IMF can't always provide. There are times when even the best agents have to fly commercial. This is one of these times, as seen through the eyes of an airport worker, who experiences the revelation of a lifetime.


_Author's Notes: _

_Initially, I wanted to see what Ethan's team is like in a situation that does not necessarily require them to watch each other's backs. But then I realized that, to them, keeping an eye on each other has probably become so instinctive that it's like breathing – it just happens, they can't just switch it off, even if they are not in danger. _

_Which led me to this little set-up that you are about to read._

_The angle I chose is an OC point of view, so don't be worried if this starts out with some character that you don't know. The guy's name is Mike, he is in his mid-twenties, eager to do a good job, and a really nice guy, if a little inexperienced yet. You'll get to know him fairly quickly, and then you can join him as he watches the team from an outside perspective – and, in the end, maybe even from a little closer than Mike thought. ;)_

_Summary: _

_Private jets are a luxury that the IMF can't always provide. There are times when even the best agents have to fly commercial. This is one of these times, as seen through the eyes of an airport worker, who experiences the revelation of a lifetime._

**Just a Cog in the Machine**

Mike was known to be efficient.

He was friendly when approached. Had a cool head when things got hectic. And he was observant when a keen eye was needed.

He had to be. It was essential in his line of work.

Contrary to popular belief, airport security was no place for people who wanted to sit on their butts all day, drink coffee and eat donuts.

Mike knew he was just one cog in the big security machine, but he had taken this job because he wanted to make sure people were safe. Both on the ground and also up in the air. He could have joined the Police Force or even the military for that, but he had always liked airports, so once he was old enough, he did the necessary tests – and he was hired as an airport security worker. He spent his first year of duty in Boston, before he moved to Chicago, where he honed his skills some more. And during that second year in Chicago he also developed a skill for 'trouble tours', as his colleagues called them.

Trouble tours were fun. Whenever his colleagues at the X-ray machine were having a slow day, Mike was free to do a little excursion, to wander from his normal station at the X-Rays and do a little check-up walk around the departure lounges. It wasn't just a break from the routine for him. He was actually good at this. Very good. Amongst his colleagues, he had become pretty much famous for his ability to spot trouble before it even got a chance to break out.

Whether it was a tourist so lost that he needed a new set of directions to his flight, or a business man who was about to accidentally forget his bag at the gate, or even some kid who was wandering a bit too far away from his mother, risking to get lost – Mike always managed to spot these situations way before anyone else, and he took care of them with an efficiency that usually made everyone's day a whole lots easier.

Today was such a day.

Mike was on duty.

And, having gotten a 'go on, have fun' nod from his colleagues at the X-Ray machine, he was once again free to start another 'trouble tour'.

His path today took him down the south end of the Terminal, past the stores and coffee shops, as he wandered leisurely towards the departure gates on Level 3, overlooking the airfield. All was quiet there – or at least what Mike considered quiet for this area, taking into account the numerous passengers with connecting flights hurrying back and forth, the tourists spending way too much money for things they could get for half the price back home, and the usual number of overworked business people sitting in their lounges, waiting for their next flights to be called up.

It was a typical day at the Gates. In fact, Mike had just reached the last Gate on this Level, Gate 18, and seeing how everything was perfectly quiet here as well, he was about to circle back towards the way he came from.

That was when he spotted them.

Or, to be exact, he spotted only one of them at first.

There was something about that guy that made the hair on Mike's neck stand up straight.

It wasn't that the man was doing anything suspicious. But as Mike continued to look, he noticed that this seemed to be exactly what made the man stand out.

He looked like he _should_ be doing something suspicious.

That was the best way Mike could describe it, at least until he could get some further information. Which was why Mike decided to delay his return to the X-ray tables for a bit. He wanted to see if his trouble-spotting skill was once again spot-on.

For a minute, Mike simply watched the guy. He looked rather harmless. Like a geek on a holiday. In fact, the guy was just sitting there, casually lounging on one of the hard plastic chairs alongside the large windows overlooking the airfield. The three seats to his left and right were empty, so he seemed to be travelling alone. He had a computer on his knees. And a pen in his mouth. And he was completely immersed in whatever he was doing on that computer.

The guy clearly wasn't aware of any loud-speaker announcements. He also didn't spare even one glance towards the gate counter to check the latest news on the information panel. And he wasn't looking at his watch, either. Not once. It was like he trusted some invisible force of nature to subconsciously inform him when his flight was ready. Because he sure wasn't keeping track of anything that was going on around him.

_That_ was not normal behaviour for someone waiting for a flight.

No one sat at an airport without watching his surroundings at least once in a while.

But, as Mike continued to observe the man from across the room, the man clearly didn't seem to be aware of anything other than his computer screen.

No one was that careless.

Unless you knew you could afford to be.

And Mike wanted to know why that was.

-o-

After a few more minutes of watching, Mike gradually became aware of something that made him start looking back and forth between the computer guy and another man, whom he had just now spotted at about fifteen feet away from the first guy.

This second man appeared to be a simple business man. He was wearing a grey suit, although his jacket had been casually flung over a seat nearby, together with his light travel bag. The tie around his neck had been loosened, and the sleeves of his white business shirt had been rolled up to his elbows, giving him a relaxed appearance.

The man stood at the very end of the same row in which laptop guy had taken his seat. But considering that the business man hadn't looked at the computer guy even once, it stood to reason that the two probably didn't know each other. Besides, from what Mike could see, the suit man was quite busy looking out through one of the large windows, his back to the room, enjoying the sight of the planes on the runway.

But after observing the man for a while longer, Mike couldn't shake the feeling that the planes weren't the only thing the business man was watching. It was entirely possible that the man was also using the reflection in the window right before him to keep an eye on anything that might be going on behind him. And if one were to think that thought yet a little further, one might even go as far as to consider the possibility that the man in the suit was in fact keeping a subtle eye out for anything that looked like it intended to approach or disturb the computer guy in any way.

It was a weird idea, granted. In fact, Mike almost rejected it right away.

But his 'trouble'-radar kept tingling at the back of his neck, so he kept his eyes peeled.

And as Mike kept watching, he slowly became aware of a third person – this one a lady – who was sitting two rows across from the computer guy.

She, too, was not looking at the computer guy. And, as far as Mike could see, she wasn't looking at the business man, either. But whenever anybody stepped past the lady from her left side, and approached the row of seats directly at the back of the suit guy - his only blind spot - the lady just happened to look up, every time without fail. Her eyes would subtly follow any 'intruder' into that area between her and the computer guy, until the intruder either moved out of her perimeter again or sat down far enough from the computer guy that the business man could comfortably see the intruder's reflection in the window.

As Mike kept watching this with growing curiosity, he realized that between the lady on the left and the business man on the right, the row that the computer guy was occupying was pretty much under perfect surveillance.

Mike couldn't say how he knew, but he would have bet his entire month's pay that if anybody had stepped into this particular row of seats with any bad intentions, the computer guy wouldn't even have had to look up from his work because the other two people would have dealt with the problem. Automatically. Instinctively. Seamlessly.

_Long_ before any trouble could have even gotten close to the carefree man in between them.

The computer guy himself didn't look like he was even aware what was happening. But his cluelessness notwithstanding, there was no two ways about it: the man was as safe as a bug in the rug.

Suit guy and pretty lady were making sure of it. Subtly and effortlessly. In fact, as Mike realized, looking at the completely relaxed postures of the two people shielding the computer guy, it almost appeared like they weren't even consciously aware of their own efforts. Neither the lady nor the businessman looked like they were doing anything out of the ordinary.

Mike had never seen anything like it.

He had heard about such things, however. Back when he had informed himself about a possible military career. He had heard how covert teams moved like this, in perfect concert. Always aware of each other, watching their backs without even needing words. So in tune with each other that it became like second nature to them.

Mike didn't know who these three people were, but at that moment, he realized that whoever or whatever they were, they were not a threat to his airport.

Sure, his trouble-meter had once again been spot-on, because he had no doubt that these three probably _could_ be a lot of trouble if they wanted to be – but something in his gut told Mike that they were only trouble for people who had bad intentions. These three people looked like they were the good guys.

So, after watching the three of them some more, just for the joy of it, Mike eventually ceased his observation with a soft grin. He was happy to have solved the mystery about the computer guy, and also happy that he had been skilled enough to even spot the other two, even though they pretended not to belong together.

Mike was actually a little proud of himself for that.

In his happiness, however, he didn't look where he was headed for a moment, and as he turned on the spot, he nearly walked right into another passenger, who happened to be in his path.

"I'm sorry, Sir, that was my mistake. I apologize." Mike instantly apologized to the man, making sure that he hadn't been hurt.

But the man looked fine. His blue suit hadn't gotten wrinkled, and the white shirt, with the top button open, still looked as fresh as if it had come right out of the dryer.

The man didn't seem to be hurt, as proven by his instant response:

'It's alright, no problem. It was my own fault anyway, I should have watched where I was going." the man smiled at him.

It was an easy smile. A confident smile.

And smile that seemed to have been safely in place even _before_ Mike had bumped into the guy.

That's when Mike suddenly realized something.

If that man had just walked up behind him, Mike would have noticed it. That meant the man must have already been standing there.

'Wait a minute, has he been standing behind me the whole time?' the idea suddenly occurred to Mike.

As Mike looked at the man once more, his eyes growing wide in realization, the man simply shrugged his shoulder in a good-natured way, and taking his own bag in hand once more, the man told Mike with a quick smirk:

"Don't worry about it, you're doing a good job. Just keep it up, and you'll be fine."

And with that, the mysteriously smiling man moved past Mike, heading directly towards the counter at Gate 18, confidently moving past the lounge area without even giving it a glance.

But as Mike watched the man, he suddenly saw something else out of the corner of his eye.

Without a word or even a look exchanged, the guy at the window and the woman had begun moving. Almost in sync, like two sides of a coin. The man at the window was smoothly grabbing his suit jacket and bag, before he casually walked over to the guy with the computer. Once he was close, the suit man merely leaned down and grabbed the computer guy's bag – and simply moved off with it towards the counter.

The computer guy didn't even look up.

He only looked up, when – coming from his left side – the lady approached him with her own bag in hand, tapping the unsuspecting computer guy on his base cap in a 'we're leaving, you wanna come with?' gesture that was obviously meant for him to shut down his computer because it was time to get going.

With a quick grin, the guy smoothly closed his laptop, and just a moment later he was on his feet, casually following the lady towards the counter.

That same counter where the business man from the window was already standing.

Right next to the man with the blue suit.

And as the pretty lady and the computer guy joined the two other men, Mike finally realized what was going on.

He had been watching artists at work.

While Mike had watched the two people who had been watching the computer guy, the fourth man had been watching _all_ of them. Like a father watching out for his family. Or a vigilant leader ensuring the safety of his team.

Because that's what they obviously were.

Four people who were clearly accustomed to working together as one close-knit unit. A unit consisting of members that did not need to be physically near each other to succeed in protecting each other's backs.

Apart, each of them might look like just one cog in the machine, in itself interesting yet inconspicuous, but when all the parts worked together towards the same goal, as Mike had just seen them do, it was hard not to be impressed by the result.

As Mike eventually watched them board their flight, he hoped he could one day become as efficient as these four people were.

But until then, he would simply continue his job spotting trouble at this airport, learning as he went. Because for the security of this airport, his work might also be just one cog in the machine – but he knew his work was important.

And he loved his work.

Because you just never knew what kind of people you might encounter at an airport.

THE END


End file.
